


Last Young Rebel

by xanavici



Series: Dead Man Walking [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Deadlock!McCree, Gen, Platonic Relationship, Pre-Canon, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10685940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanavici/pseuds/xanavici
Summary: An old friend comes around and tells Jesse it's time to move onto the next chapter in his life.





	Last Young Rebel

“Fuckin’ shit!” Jesse curses as he fires blindly over his shoulder and dives behind some crates.  Crates that are going to get torn to shreds if he doesn’t find a way out of here soon.  Ethan, the last member or his crew that isn't dead or arrested, clumsily rolls in next to his with a bark of pain.  He clutches his side and hisses.  Jesse pulls Ethan’s hand away from his side and curses again.  He’s going to bleed out from that bullet wound unless they get out of here quick.

Jesse growls with anger as another spray of bullets rips by overhead and keeps him and Ethan pinned down where they are.  How did the police find out about this job?  The contact he had used was as trustworthy as they come, the guns were absolutely clean, the pickup location was so nondescript Jesse almost couldn't find it, and the clients were long time, and generally satisfied, buyers from the Deadlocks.  This job was supposed to be so quick and easy he was supposed to make it back to the compound in time to win everyone's money at poker night.  But of course the police had somehow caught wind of the pickup and tore that plan to shreds.  Couldn’t they just mind their own business?  

Though, Jesse is beginning to suspect that whoever is shooting at them isn't the police.  For one, they have more numbers than the local law men and two, their gear is a whole lot better than the state issued stuff.  But they also work too efficiently and organized for it to be another gang; maybe a private security group?  Whatever, Jesse can worry about who they are later, after there’s a few less bullets flying towards him.

There’s a shout from the group of attackers and everyone stop shooting.  Jesse risks a look from around the crates and sees all the shooters standing there, guns slightly lowered, waiting for another order.  One man with a beanie and some wicked looking shotguns steps forward. He's too far away to make out any specific features but a sense of familiarity washes over Jesse.  The man calls out to them.

“Drop your guns and come out with your hands raised and we won't shoot.  Do the opposite and we will put you down, without hesitation.”

Jesse ducks back around the crate and lets out a truly impressive string of curses.  He's not stupid.  With all the shit he’s done over the past couple years he knows that even if he surrenders, it’s an express trip to the county morgue and he has no interest in dying a second time.  He peeks around the crate one more time and smiles.  Finally, some good luck.  The man in charge sent four of his men and women away, probably to try and flank him and Ethan, but that means their numbers reduced from 12 to 8.  Jesse grabs Ethan's last clip -not like he's going to need it with the way he's writhing around in pain- and loads it into his gun.  Ten bullets for eight people, it’s almost too easy.  

Jesse closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and gets ready to use his gift, something he's affectionately started calling Deadeye lately.  He opens his eyes again and the world is black and white.  He starts to get up but stops at the sight of an old friend leaning against the wall next to them.

“A little early, ain’tcha?” He calls outs.  Death smirks.

“No, not for your friend at least.”

Jesse looks over and sure enough, Ethan's stopped rolling around in pain and stopped breathing.

“Welp, may he rest in peace .”

“Hmm, we’ll see.  His judgment’s yet to come.”

Jesse gives Ethan a moment of silence then moves again to get up.

“Wait, Jesse Emmanuel McCree.  Don't do this.”

“What?  Why?  Ain't that why yer here?”

“No, I'm not going to be collecting them today.”

“Well then why’re ya here?”

“Call it... monitoring my investment.”

“Is that what I am?”

“Yes.”

“Well then you should know that unless I shoot my way out, I'm gonna end up in a body bag and that ain't very good fer yer ‘investment’.”

“Jesse Emmanuel McCree, do you not remember what I showed you the day you were reborn?”

If Jesse’s being honest, it's a little fuzzy.  He tries not to think about it that much, or that whole day that much.  It still kinda freaks him out.

“If you remembered, you would know to do as Gabriel Reyes says.”

“Who?”

“For this one time, Jesse Emmanuel McCree, don't take the shot.”

“Why?  You tell me to do these things but ya ain't givin’ me any reasons.”

“Because you are done killing innocents.  It's time to dispense justice to those who deserve it.”

Jesse glares at Death and the grip on his gun wavers.

“Damn it,” Jesse says after a few long moments.  He drops his gun and lets the world return to color.  “God knows why I trust ya, but get some god forsaken reason I do.  This better not screw me over.”

“Do not worry, it's all for the best.”

Jesse finally stands and raises his empty hands in the air.  The man in the beanie motions with his hand and two of his people rush forward.  They force Jesse to his knees and cuff him and pull Ethan's body out from behind the crate.  Death must have already done their business and disappeared.  The last thing Jesse sees before a black bag is shoved over his head is the scowling, scarred face of the man in the beanie.

 

* * *

It's a short walk, a long car ride in an uncomfortable seat, and another walk before Jesse's shoved into a hard, plastic seat and the bag is removed from his head.  He finds himself in a standard issue interrogation room with one table, two chairs, and one one-way mirror.  His hands are cuffed to the table and the two guards that brought him in leave without a word.  The brief glimpse he gets of the hallway outside doesn't look like any police station hallway and that confirms his theory that whoever busted his job wasn't the boys in blue.  

It's hard to tell exactly how much time passes in that interrogation room but every couple of hours someone comes in to ask him questions.

“What's your name?”

“How old are you?”

“What's your role in the Deadlock Rebels?”

“What were you doing at that weapons drop?”

Jesse never answers.  Just because he said he would do what Death said doesn't mean he would make this easy, and none of these guys seem like they’re named Gabriel Reyes.  Twice someone comes in with the saddest looking PB&J sandwich he’s ever seen and unlocks one of his hands to eat the thing.  

The hours tick by and his interrogators get more and more angry at his silence.  Every time they leave in a huff, Jesse smirks like he just won another battle.  

Things finally get interesting when the door opens, waking Jesse from his nap, and the boss man with the beanie walks in.  This looks like a guy worth talking to.  Maybe the exact guy he needs to talk to.  He sits down across from Jesse and levels him with a stare.  Jesse glares right back and neither say anything, not willing to be the first to break.  Now that Jesse can see the man’s face clearly he can admit that he looks familiar, but he can't place where he's seen the man’s face before.  In fact, he's getting a whole sense of deja vu right now.

The minutes tick by until almost half an hour has gone by.  Half an hour of silence and glaring and the occasional shifting in the hard plastic chairs.  Jesse would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat uncomfortable.  This is nothing like the other interrogations and the man has a very intimidating stare.  Finally the man speaks.

“As much as I would like to sit here all day with you -and believe me, I would, this is the most peace and quiet I've gotten all week- I've got things to do, so let's get this thing rolling.”

Jesse still says nothing.

“Still sticking with the tough guy routine, huh?  That's okay, I'll do the talking and you can tell me if mess up any details.  Let’s start with the basics, you look like  you're about 15 years old? No, you don't like that.  You're older, but not too much, I’d say about 17, 18.  Yea, that's about right.”

Jesse is baffled.  The man is reading him like an open book, and he thought he had a great poker face.

“Next question, you joined the Deadlocks recently by the looks of that tattoo.  About three years ago, am I right?”

Two and a half, close enough.  Jesse shrugs, the closest thing to an answer all day.  No use trying to play the upper hand when he obviously doesn't have it anymore.  

“So what made a kid like you decide to join up with, arguably, the worst gang this side of the Rio Grande.  Home life suck? Mom and dad not give you enough attention?  Did they hurt you?” The man ends that question in a more serious tone.

Jesse finally breaks his silence.  “That would’ve required them ta be around in the first place.”  It comes out bitter, but a little sad at the same time.  Completely opposite of the aloof tone he was going for.

“Ah, so he can speak.  That makes this so much easier.  So, kid without any parents, gets shuffled around the system, falls in with the wrong crowd, and decides to take he chances with the first people who give him attention.  Makes sense.  Now that we got that out of the way, tell me more about Deadlock.”

“...No.”

“No?”

“No, not until you give me something in return.”

The man leans back in his chair and considers Jesse’s demands.  “Okay, fine.  What do you want?”

“First, I want a real sandwich.  A nice fat one piled high with meats and cheeses.”

The man goes over to the door and opens it.  He yells to someone on the other side before closing it and returning to the table.

“Second,” Jesse continues, “I need you ta answer one question fer me.”

“Well, depending on the question I’ll answer it if I can.”

“I think you’ll be able to answer this one.”

“Then shoot.”

“Is yer name Gabriel Reyes?”

The man freezes, obviously surprised.  “Who told you that?”

“A friend.”

“And how did your friend know that?” 

“They know things.  Now, is yer name Gabriel Reyes or not?”

“It is, why’s that so important to you?”

“Cuz’ my friend told me to be on the lookout for a Gabriel Reyes and I told them I would.”

“You always do what your friends tell you to?”

“Nah, I only listen to the one’s that save my life a couple times.”

“Good philosophy, kid.  Does this mean you’re going to answer my questions now?”

“Give me a good reason to.”

Reyes’ glare turns steely and his voice takes on an annoyed but mostly angry tone.  “How’s this, you, kid, are the last Deadlock Rebel that isn’t in chains or six feet under.  At the end of the day you are going to prison for the rest of your life, but I alone can make that stay a little easier or your worst nightmare.  Tell me what I want to know and I’ll make sure you get a good deal by the end of our little chat.”

Jesse swallows down the lump in his throat.  Reyes is scarier than the devil himself.  “...Sounds good to me.”

Jesse tells Reyes everything he knows.  It takes a couple of hours and he goes through two more sandwiches.  He watches Reyes face go from interested to impressed to another, unknown, emotion.  Jesse still has a severe sense of deja vu that’s growing but it remains a mystery, the answer just out of his reach.  When he finishes, Reyes is silent.  It sets Jesse on edge and makes him fidget in his seat.

“I think I finally get you, kid,” Reyes finally says.  “You're not like the rest of the scumbags we brought in.  You didn't join Deadlock because you wanted money or power, you joined because you're a survivor.  You do what you have to to keep moving and to stay alive.  It’s rare to find someone like that.  And that's why I'm changing our deal.”

Jesse panics, but he makes sure not to show it.  Fuck, he should have gotten that deal in writing, now he’s going to go to super max and everyone there is going to know he snitched.

“Calm down kid.”  Reyes says in an utterly calm voice.  It does nothing to stop Jesse’s spiraling thoughts.  “Hey!”  Jesse’s head snaps up to attention.  “ I'm not taking away your deal, I'm just changing it.  As long as you can answer one more question for me.”

Jesse just nods, not trusting his voice.

“What's your name kid?”

“Jesse McCree.”

“Well then McCree, do you want to go to prison, or-” Reyes pulls out a set of handcuff keys and dangles them in front of Jesse, “-do you want to keep on surviving?”

Jesse’s mind screeches to a stop.  The scenes Death showed him that day in the desert come crashing to the front of his mind.  That's why all of this seemed so familiar.  That's why Death told him not to take the shot.  

When Jesse finally gets his brain working again he makes the easiest decision of his life.

“What do you want me to do, boss?”

Reyes smiles and tosses him the keys.  “Welcome to Blackwatch, McCree.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at: cryptidhanzoshimada


End file.
